


Teach Your Children Well

by ridiculously



Series: Whole Lotta Love [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Castiel, Cas is incredibly stressed, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grumpy Castiel, Idiots in Love, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Makeup Sex, Mechanic Dean, Smut, Teacher Castiel, Top Dean, dean is a good boyfriend, farmers market
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridiculously/pseuds/ridiculously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up close, Cas looked slightly worse for wear. Dean reached out a thumb to Cas's cheek and rubbed. "How did you get ink on your face?"</p><p>Cas sighed, but leaned into Dean's hand. "Perils of the life, I guess...What time is it?"</p><p>"Time for you to take a break," Dean replied.</p><p>"I can't, Dean," Cas said, voice rough. "The Praxis is this Thursday. I'm not even halfway through reviewing my notes from the practice exam. Do you know what the Pythagorean theorem is?"</p><p>"A-squared plus B-squared equals C-squared, right? Something about a hypotenuse?"</p><p>Cas turned towards him and rested his forehead against Dean's stomach. "I can't do this, Dean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Your Children Well

_Ave Maria_ was quietly streaming into the living room from the tiny study and Dean just knew. He knew if he wandered down the hallway and into what used to be their guest bedroom that he'd find Cas hunched over his ancient desk, hair sticking up like peacock's feathers, and ink smeared all over his hands.

Cas had started listening to Schubert a few years earlier after his first unsuccessful attempt to convince his father that insurance sales were not for him. Since then it'd become his go to soundtrack for high level frustration.

Dean, ready with a sarcastic quip about knowing a few good ways to relieve tension, put down this month's copy of Popular Mechanics and headed towards the study. He paused in the doorway and the quip died on his tongue at the sight of Cas.

His black hair stood in curled tufts at his temples. His reading glasses were covered in smudges and making a rapid descent down his nose. The desk was littered with papers, various books, and one enormous copy of what appeared to be the Oxford English Dictionary. Cas had a blue pen in his right hand, a green Sharpie in his left, and was using a pink highlighter as a bookmark in the back pages of the OED. An empty coffee mug rested at his elbow.

"Pythagorean theorem? Why do I need to know that? I'm planning to teach English for fuck's sake." Cas muttered to himself, and Dean wasn't entirely sure he knew he had company.

"My guess is the state of South Dakota just wants to make sure your education is as well-rounded as the young minds entrusted to your care."

Cas dropped his pen and blinked up at Dean leaning against the doorframe. "Hey," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "How long have you been standing there?"

Dean shrugged. "Not long." He moved into the room, turning on the desk lamp as he went. Up close, Cas looked slightly worse for wear. Dean reached out a thumb to Cas's cheek and rubbed. "How did you get ink on your face?"

Cas sighed, but leaned into Dean's hand. "Perils of the life, I guess." He looked up groggily at Dean, his blue eyes dull and red. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to take a break," Dean replied.

"I can't, Dean," Cas said, voice rough. "The Praxis is this Thursday. I'm not even halfway through reviewing my notes from the practice exam. Do you know what the Pythagorean theorem is?"

"A-squared plus B-squared equals C-squared, right? Something about a hypotenuse?" Sam might have been the brains of the Winchester operation, but math made sense to Dean on a fundamental level.

Cas turned towards him and rested his forehead against Dean's stomach. "I can't do this, Dean. I don't have any idea how to teach. I probably won't even pass the Praxis and if I do, I'll have to tell my dad I'm ditching the family business to become a penniless high school English teacher. And then he'll disown me and I'll never work again and we'll be forced to live in the Impala and I'll probably have to burn all my books just to keep us warm and this is all such a waste of time. What am I doing with my life, Dean?" Cas rambled, his voice growing more high pitched and hysterical as he went.

Dean laughed softly, stroking Cas's hair in an effort to help him relax. "Yep, come on, it's definitely time for you to take a break, buddy." Dean gently gripped Cas's upper arm and pulled him out of his chair. When Cas was upright, Dean wrapped his arms around him. Cas sagged into him and finally eased his arms around Dean's waist.

"It’s only Saturday, Cas. You have almost a week to finish studying for the Praxis. You've been working day and night for a year preparing for this; one afternoon off isn't going to kill you." Dean felt Cas begin to protest, so he pressed on, soothing but firm in his insistence that Cas come up for a breather. "Look, man, it's a little after ten. The farmer's market is still open downtown. You're gonna strap on your big boy pants, get in the car, and we're going to get you some sunshine. And if you're really good, maybe some of the honey from that beekeeper you like."

"Farmer's market?" Cas asked. "You sound like Sam."

Dean pinched his side. "Is that a yes?"

Cas lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Dean's stubbled jaw. "Yes."

"Good." Cas began to move away, but Dean grabbed his wrist and held him back. "Wait. Come here." Cas moved back into the circle of Dean's arms and laid his head against his shoulder.

"What?" He asked.

Dean pressed a tender kiss to Cas's soft mouth, tilting his head for a better angle when Cas smiled against his lips. Their tongues moved against each other, warm, familiar, and comforting. Dean pulled back slowly, laying a final kiss to Cas's forehead. He wrinkled his nose. "Cas, baby, you smell like stale coffee. Maybe a shower first before we take you out in public, huh?"

Cas relaxed heavily against him and laughed. "Yeah, okay."

An hour later, Dean parked the Impala in front of the Fall Park Farmer's Market. Together, he and Cas browsed the stalls, picking up apples here, a warm loaf of freshly baked bread there. Dean could sense Cas's distraction; Cas walked with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trenchcoat, a small line between his brows. He showed a distinct lack of appreciation when Dean presented him with a half a pound of dill cheddar from Valley Side Farm Cheese.

"Hey," Dean pressed his shoulder into Cas's side. "Anybody home in there?"

Cas looked up at him with cornflower eyes and a forced smile. "Sorry," he said. "It's just, you know, everything. I have ten thousand things running through my head all at once and I can't focus on a single thing long enough to…"

"Clarence! Yoo hoo, Clarence!" Cas was cut off by a little old lady with bright white hair waving her arms from behind her stall.

"Oh, no. Dean, no, we have to go." Cas turned to Dean with panic etched across his face, but Dean steered him in the direction of the continuing calls of, "Clarence! Over here, Clarence!"

"Dean, come on, the last time we got distracted by Ruth, she sold us a whole goose. A whole goose, Dean! We never even ate the damn thing."

"Well, she and Tom do run the Goosemobile, Cas. Come on, she's awesome. Maybe this time she'll give us some bacon!" Dean said as they approached the stall, piled with cuts of various meats.

"Clarence! How are you, dear? I haven't seen you in ages," Ruth complained, wiping her hands on her frilly apron. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Hello, Ruth. It's nice to see you," Cas was impeccably polite, but Dean heard the strain in his voice.

"Clarence, did you know it was my birthday last week? Tom made me a cake and the damn thing blew up right in my face. Scared the hell out of the cat, too. He hasn't been right since." She shook her head.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ruth. We'd really love to stay and chat, but Dean and I have somewhere to be," Cas lied gracefully. It was a skill Dean had never quite gotten used to in him. Cas grasped his elbow firmly and began to move them away from the Goosemobile's stall, but Ruth was relentless.

"Clarence, you look skinny. And pale. Dear, have you been eating enough? Maybe you should take some of our duck. It's nice and fatty this time of year! Or perhaps some pork? I might have some tenderloin back here somewhere."

Dean's mouth watered and he piped up. "We'd love some b…" he started, but Cas brusquely interrupted.

" _But_ , we really do have to go." Cas shot him a glare that might have been meant to smite, but Dean felt an entirely different kind of heat curl in his stomach.

Cas's grip was iron on Dean's arm as he marched them both towards the exit and outside. "Hey, where are we going? She was trying to sell us bacon, Cas! You can't just turn down food like that in front of me."

"Dean!" Cas growled as they came to a halt on the bike path behind the farmer's market, overlooking the Big Sioux River. "I can't take it anymore! I can't make small talk with the batty old lady from the Goosemobile and I can't wander around the farmer's market buying apples for a pie you'll never bake because you'd rather eat the preservative-laced shit they sell at the Gas 'N' Sip. And I can't not be mad at you for understanding things like the Pythagorean theorem so easily when I could give a flying fuck about math because all I want to do is teach fucking teenagers how to appreciate John Keats and Charles fucking Dickens. And I can't stop worrying about how much studying I still have to do and how I only have four more days to do it. And I can't stop thinking about my father and your father and Sam and how I can't imagine ever raising a child to _not_ follow their dreams and goddamnit, I can't stop resenting the hell out of Gabriel for getting out and never fucking looking back. I can't, Dean, I can't." Cas's breath came in fits and bursts, his cheeks flamed with anger, and his voice rumbled menacingly.

Dean set his bag of apples on the ground and moved to rest his hands on Cas's shaking shoulders, but Cas swatted him away. Instead, he leaned against the path's railing and pressed his face into his palms. Dean stood beside him, not touching, but close enough for Cas to feel his presence.

"This was a mistake, Cas. I thought getting you out of the house and away from your books might help," Dean admitted. "But clearly, you're just going to keep powering through. Like you always do. So come on, I'll take you home, and you can get back to studying. Bobby mentioned something about having a few odd jobs around the shop this weekend, anyway. I'll drop you off and be out of your hair."

Cas looked up, but Dean saw no emotion on his face. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Later, Dean beat the crap out of a rusted Mustang's hood. He figured it was a better channel for his anger than anything else. In between sledge hammer blows, Dean heard the twist of a bottle cap and the crunch of gravel under well-worn boots.

"What'd that horse ever do to you, son?" Bobby called from behind Dean.

"I'm not your son, Bobby," Dean snapped. He continued to hammer, feeling the muscles of his back clench and flex.

"Well, excuse me, princess, but according to the state of South Dakota, I believe 'Permanent Legal Guardian' makes me about as close to a parent as you got." Bobby's tone was even, but brewing. "Why don't you put down the hammer, boy, and have a beer. Sun's goin' down anyway; won't accomplish much out here wailing around in the dark."

"Fine," Dean threw the sledge hammer to the ground in frustration and turned back towards the garage. He slumped onto the old picnic table across from Bobby and unscrewed his own bottle cap.

"Wanna tell me what's got your panties all up in a knot?" Bobby asked.

"My dad's been dead over ten years, Bobby. How the hell is he still hanging around in my life?"

Bobby sat quietly, spinning a bottle cap between his thumb and forefinger. He raised his eyebrows at Dean, but didn't respond.

"It's just, Christ, are all father's like him? Pushing their kids into something that's not what they wanna do? You know, it doesn't so much bother me. Him pushing me into cars. Turns out, I don't mind being a grease monkey all that much. But Sam? Did he really have to try to push Sammy into cars, too? Fuck, anyone could've seen that kid was meant for more than stickin' around Lawrence, working with wrenches and jacks. You ever wonder if it was worth it to him? The guy died and he never once told Sam he was proud of his grades or proud of his smarts or proud of him for wantin' to go to law school." Dean cleared his throat.

 He looked up at Bobby. "Are they all like that? Cas's been studying his ass off day and night just to become a teacher and he's so goddamn afraid of telling his old man that he's quitting the family business that he damn near had a nervous breakdown this morning."

"I'll bet that kid's ready to crack," Bobby chuckled under his breath. "Father like his? Damn right he's terrified of tellin' him to piss off."

"Bobby," Dean sighed.

"Don't know what to tell ya, boy. Your daddy was an asshole, sure. My daddy was an asshole even on his best days. And those were few and even farther between." He shrugged.

"We've never even talked about having kids. Never, not once. But today Cas said he couldn't imagine ever raising a kid and not giving him or her the opportunity to do what they wanted. It scared the crap out of me, you know. Between the two of us, we're buried in daddy issues. I can't imagine bringing a kid into that."

"Don't know, Dean. You and me did alright with Sam those couple years after your parents died and before he moved out to Stanford." Bobby stretched, and gave Dean a small smile. "Family don't end with blood, boy."

Dean looked up sharply at Bobby. Something akin to relief spread under the surface of his skin. He opened his mouth to respond, when his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket. "Speak of the devil," he said, showing Bobby the caller ID. Bobby waved him off and headed back towards the house.

"Hello," Dean said, once Bobby was inside.

"Hello, Dean," Cas responded from across town. He sounded exhausted. Dean wasn't sure what to say, so he kept his mouth shut and kicked the gravel beneath his feet.

"I've listened to every version of _Ave Maria_ I could find on the internet this afternoon."

Dean let a tiny laugh escape.

"I ate the entire loaf of bread we bought this morning," Cas mumbled. "Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"Come home, please." Cas's voice broke, just the tiniest bit, but it was enough to send Dean running to the Impala, speeding down 90 West, and throwing Baby into park faster than he'd ever done in his life.

He was barely through the front door when Cas threw his arms around Dean's neck and kissed every inch of available skin from his neck up. "I'm sorry," he said between kisses. "I'm sorry." A kiss on his throat. "I'm sorry." A kiss on his collarbone. "I'm sorry." A kiss on his eyelid. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Cas repeated.

Dean held Cas's face between his hands to keep him still, but also to force Cas to meet his gaze. The apology was clear in Cas's deep blue eyes. Dean didn't need it anymore, he realized. He wasn't even sure what there was to apologize for. He just needed Cas to be okay.

Dean kissed Cas, stroking his cheeks with his thumb. "Hey, hey, it's okay, baby. Cas, it's gonna be okay." He kissed Cas fiercely, mouth open, tongue rolling against Cas's. Cas clung to him, responding with teeth and tongue and the scratch of his stubbled jaw. Cas's hands roamed possessively down Dean's body, pushing at layers of flannel, tugging at Dean's belt.

Cas jerked Dean's hips in close, desperation in his movements. Dean felt the hard ridge of Cas's erection against his thigh and blood surged to his own dick in response. Cas sank to his knees and manhandled Dean out of his jeans and boxers with deft hands. Dean grabbed Cas's hair, raking his fingers through the soft curls. He moaned hungrily when Cas's lips closed around him.

Cas's mouth was warm, his lips soft against the sensitive skin of Dean's dick. "Uh, Cas," he murmured. "Yes, baby, ugh." Cas bobbed up and down, one hand gripping Dean's thigh for leverage, the other, delicately cupping Dean's balls. It was clear from Cas's slurping that he was going more for function and less for grace, but Dean didn't care. He threaded his fingers again and again through Cas's hair, whining low and long when Cas took him deeper into his mouth. "Oh, Cas. Oh, please, fuck." Dean's eyes rolled back in his head.

Dean felt his orgasm building, ready for release. "I'm close, baby, so close," Dean stammered. Cas pulled back slowly.

"Fuck me, Dean. I want you inside me tonight. I need to feel you," he said, standing up and unbuttoning his jeans. They fell from his hips and he stepped out of them as Dean reached for him.

Dean kissed Cas deeply, tasting his own salty musk on Cas's tongue. They moved through the apartment, bumping into walls in their inability to relinquish each other's lips. Dean backed Cas up against their bed when they finally made it into the room.

He wrapped his hand around Cas's dick. Dean stroked him affectionately, nibbling at Cas's earlobe at the same time. "Dean," Cas sighed. "Dean, please. Fuck me."

Keeping a hold on Cas's hip, Dean found the bottle of lube in the night stand. He rubbed a bit on his fingers and reached behind Cas to tease at his hole. "Yes," Cas said, rocking back toward Dean's hand. Dean pressed in to his first knuckle, waiting for Cas to adjust. "Ugh, more." Dean complied, adding the rest of his index finger to Cas's heat.

Dean worked him open, relishing the changes in Cas's expression as he adjusted to a second finger, then a third. Dean curled his fingers and lightly grazed Cas's prostate. He clenched around Dean's fingers, then smiled and relaxed as Dean touched his sweet spot again. "I want you, Dean. I'm ready. I'm so ready," Cas panted.

Dean lubed himself up with one hand, keeping the other at a slow and steady pace up and down Cas's cock. Cas leaned back against the bed and Dean angled himself between his legs. "Look at me," Dean demanded. Cas's blue eyes were bright and warm as Dean slid home.

Dean allowed himself to stay seated for just a breath longer, then he began to move in earnest. Cas's head fell against the mattress and his fingers scratched for purchase in the comforter. "Oh, fuck, Dean. Yes," Cas said.

Dean leaned forward, resting his head against the smooth plane of Cas's chest. He kissed Cas's nipples, the divot between his pecs, his collarbones. "Baby, feel so good. So warm, so tight. Uhgn," Dean felt himself drawing closer and closer to coming. He slid one arm beneath Cas's back, needing to hold him, to reassure Cas of his presence everywhere. His other hand found Cas's cock between them and stroked him in time with Dean's thrusts.

"Going...to...," Cas thrashed beneath Dean each time Dean nailed his prostate. "Going to...come," Cas managed to get out. Dean felt warm liquid spill over his hand. He looked down at Cas's face, the lines of stress and worry nearly completely erased. Dean kissed him adoringly as his belly gave a lurch and he came in hot spurts inside Cas.

He collapsed on top of Cas, their breathing hard but synchronized. Cas held Dean's sweaty head between his hands, running lines through Dean's short hair. They panted together for a moment, and without a word, both of them moved to clean up. Cas held Dean's hand down the hall to the bathroom and Dean was sure they'd both been forgiven.

They dressed in their pajamas and quietly slid into bed together. Dean wrapped Cas in his arms, holding Cas against his chest. He felt rather than heard Cas sigh against him. "What is it?" Dean asked, hooking his chin over Cas's shoulder.

Cas held Dean's right arm against him, absentmindedly tracing the letter C tattooed at Dean's inner elbow. Cas did that sometimes when he was anxious or sad. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said evenly. "I've got four days until I take the Praxis, and if I pass, I'll be a high school teacher. And I still have no idea how or when I'm going to be able to nut up and tell my father that I'm quitting. I'm not looking forward to the conversation and I've been stupidly taking it out on you. I'm sorry," Cas said again.

"Hey," Dean said, holding Cas just a little bit tighter. "Whatever happens--pass, fail; tell your old man or not--whatever you do, I'm right there behind you." Cas rolled onto his side to face Dean. His expression was shy, but underneath it, Dean could see the trust and fondness they shared for each other. Dean kissed Cas's temple and burrowed into the blankets a little further. "No matter what happens, Cas, I'll always be your family."

Cas squeezed him tightly, then relaxed fully against Dean. "Thank you, Dean," he whispered against Dean's chest.

The following Thursday, Cas passed the Praxis.


End file.
